Forever And Always
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: For a moment, everything was perfect. And then that moment passed. "I love you, Jessica Day. I'll always love you." He promised, leaning down to kiss her.


**So sophiemanic over on tumblr requested a fic about a month ago where Jess gets into a car accident after Cece's wedding. I'm almost positive she didn't want it to take quite this spin, but this is just what came out when I sat down to write...**

**The title of this is a reference to the song "Forever And Always" by the band Parachute. It's a wonderful and heartbreaking song that genuinely made me cry the first time I heard it. If you listen to it especially near the end of the fic, it's... really powerful, to say the least.**

**I should warn you, I think, that this... is not a happy ending. I'm sorry to say that, but... Heartbreak is beautiful in it's own sort of way, isn't it?**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own New Girl, the song "Forever And Always," or the tears you may or may not cry by the end of this fic.

* * *

**Fic:**

He had just wanted to take the long way back to the loft.

He had just wanted a few extra minutes alone with her before he had to share her presence again.

Dear God, _why_ had he taken the long way home?

Why hadn't he just gone with her directions and gotten home as quickly as possible? They would have had a lot more _fun_ if they had gone directly to the loft than they did in the car for those few extra minutes alone. Really, all they had done was talk about nothing in particular, steal looks at one another, smile too much, hands touching, Jess leaning over every now and then to plant a chaste kiss somewhere on Nick's skin, the promise of _more_ yet to come…

Really, would going directly to the loft have affected that? Wouldn't they still have been doing all of that? Wouldn't they have gotten home in one piece?

It didn't matter what they _didn't_ do, however; it barely mattered what they _did_ do.

Because one second Nick was cruising along a deserted street, slowing at an intersection and yielding to a stop sign, and the next he was slowly accelerating, stealing a glance at Jess' smiling face, thinking to himself that that moment couldn't be more perfect if God himself appeared in front of them and offered them the secret to life. Or the biggest bottle of beer _ever _created. Whichever.

And that's when the truck t-boned them.

It was an accident, the man driving the pick-up would claim as he was being interviewed by the police, nary a scratch on his bald head, a thin line of stubble coming back in giving way to his young age. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old.

And he was drunk as shit, of course.

And, _of course_, he denied being drunk.

Even when the cops gave him a breathalyzer and found out just how stupid drunk he was, he denied it. He only had one beer, he insisted, there was_ no way_ he was that out of it. He had been fine to drive, the now wrecked car Nick had been driving had just come out of _nowhere_, he insisted before the cops shoved him into the back of the squad car.

Nick could barely hear the conversation, the questioning, over the trill of the ambulances' sirens around him, over the buzz of the paramedics working on him and Jess. He kept trying to tell them to leave him alone, worry about _Jess_, not him. He was fine; the truck had hit Jess' side of the car.

He tried, and failed, to sit up on the stretcher and look for her, to make sure she was okay and alive, but they wouldn't let him. They told him there were paramedics working on Jess just as they were working on him and that she would be _fine_. But when he caught the eye of one of the guys working on him, a look of sadness and sympathy flashed in his eyes before he adverted his gaze as Nick was loaded into the back of the ambulance. Nick knew he was lying then.

Jess would _not_ be _fine_, would she?

He fought against the wave of fatigue he was sure had something to do with the needle a guy had just shoved into his arm. He couldn't fall asleep and lose track of his thoughts, of what really mattered. He wasn't in much pain and he was sure there was little wrong with him – a few bruises and scratches and _maybe_ a broken wrist – but Jess? She had gotten the worse end of the deal. And those stupid ass air bags that had popped out had done little to ease the impact, as it had come from the side, not the front. All they had done was knock the air out of his lungs, cutting his call for Jess short and ugly.

_Of course_, the jackass who had hit them had come out well and alive…

Bitterly, Nick wished that the kid hadn't been wearing his seatbelt before the wave overtook him wholly. Reluctant, he let his eyes slip shut and fought against the sleep that would soothe his frayed nerves for some time, Jess' scream as the truck made impact and the shattering of glass, the cracking of bones echoing within his mind and his fitful dreams.

~!~!~!~!

As soon as Nick came to in the hospital, he bolted upright, his sore muscles and wrist protesting in agony as he did so. Even though the hospital smelled of antiseptic and illness, all he could smell was burning rubber and Jess' perfume lingering in his scent glands.

_Jess_.

"Mr. Miller! We didn't expect you to wake up for quite some time. How are you feeling?" A doctor, a mousy little thing with a head of blonde hair and hazel eyes asked, a tight, tired smile decorating her face as she tapped a pen against his chart.

Nick looked around the room in a panic; he was all alone in the room. Save for the doctor and all the machines he was hooked up to, it was just Nick and his memories of that horrible accident. How long had he allowed himself to sleep? What time was it? And, more importantly, where was Jess?

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice just as tight as the smile that slipped from the doctor's pale face.

"Where is who, Mr. Miller?" she cocked her head, playing dumb. Rage rose in Nick's veins, she knew who he was talking about! Two people come in from the same accident, the doctor treating one had to know about the other!

"Jess. Jessica Day. She came in from the same accident that I did – where is she?" he demanded again, sitting up higher in his bed. As he waited for the doctor to reply, he assessed his damage as best he could through the painkillers running hand-in-hand through his veins with his anger and worry. A few bruises, some surface wounds, his ribs felt pretty bruised up but not broken, thank God, and, just as he had suspected, his left wrist was in a cast. Not too bad, all things considered…

And then a cold feeling rose in his chest: if he was this bad and had been on the side of the car _not_ hit... Then how bad was Jess?

Without thinking, Nick ripped the IVs from his good hand with a flinch as drops of blood trickled out and landed on his hospital gown. He could take care of that later, right now –

"Mr. Miller!" the doctor called out, rushing to the bed to try to stop him from moving. Not that she could, he was at least five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than she was. She couldn't restrain him even if she wanted to.

He swung his legs off the side of the bed to test them out, putting a little weight on them to make sure they wouldn't give out under him before he stood up, brushing past the doctor as he looked around for his clothes. They couldn't really expect him to go around in a gown that showed off his ass for all the world to see, could they?

"Mr. Miller, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to get back in bed before I call security in to restrain you. You've just been in a horrible accident and your body needs time to _heal_." The doctor tried, walking around to face him, grabbing his arm to try to steer him back into bed. Nick shrugged her off, however. How could they expect him to just sit around and _heal_ when he didn't even know where or how Jess was?

She was probably bluffing about calling security, anyway.

"Just tell me how Jess is." He pleaded when he couldn't find anything to change into. His other clothes were probably torn and bloodied, he realized too late. If their friends weren't already there, he could call Schmidt or Winston and have them bring him something to change into. Or he could just go looking for her in the gown that didn't really cover anything…

He should probably just call their friends.

"I don't know anything about your friend, Mr. Miller." She told him softly. When his face fell into one of doubt and terror, she sighed. "I really don't know anything. _But,_ if you get back in bed and let me replace your IVs, I'll go check at the nurses' station and find out. Okay?" She asked, and this time, when she grabbed his arm and tried to lead him back to the bed, he let her. He pulled the scratchy sheets over himself, held out his right arm for her to replace the IVs, and then watched her walk from the room with a stride of determination. The clicking of her heels on the floor faded and then he was alone with his worry.

Nick sunk down on his bed, his thoughts racing a million miles as he wondered about everything. If Jess was going to be all right, if their friends had been called, what time it was, how long until that doctor came back with news, if she could even find anything out – she wasn't the most persuasive person he'd encountered in his life, after all – if the accident could have been avoided, why the hell it was Jess, the sweetest person he knew, who had been severely injured and not _him_, the irresponsible drunk of the group…

He would probably drown in his worry before the doctor could even come back with anything.

~!~!~!~!

That bitch doctor had drugged him!

One minute he was waiting for her to come back, the next Winston was gently shaking him awake, asking him all sorts of questions that Nick didn't have the answers to himself.

There was no other explanation: the bitch had drugged him so he would lay off and be a model patient! Fuck _that_! With one swipe of his arm, he yanked out the IVs once again and vowed to not let her replace them again. She could not be trusted.

And what was more, he still didn't know where Jess was or how she was doing!

"Winston!" he exclaimed, expelling the sleep from his voice as he shook his head clear of the fog brought about by the legal drugs coursing through his system that most junkies killed to get their hands on. "Where the hell is Jess?" he demanded, sitting up on the bed.

Winston gave him a quizzical look before banishing it from his face, that was obviously the first time he had heard of Jess being involved in the accident. He had been having problems of his own, what with the badger bite and all that, and wasn't aware of anything that had happened between Nick leaving the bar and _now_.

"Jess is here?"

"Yes! Now where is she?" he asked, getting hysterical. He just wanted to know where Jess was and how she was doing – why would no one tell him, damnit!

"I don't know. I was in the ER being treated for that badger bite when I got a call from some nurse telling me you'd been in an accident and I'm your emergency contact. I didn't even know Jess was here…" he answered. Nick groaned in frustration. Of course Winston didn't know! He was _Nick's_ emergency contact not –

Oh.

Emergency contact.

Winston was Nick's emergency contact because all his family was in Chicago and Winston was his best friend, so, odds were, Jess' emergency contact was –

"Call Cece." Nick told Winston, eyes wide and wild.

"Why?"

"Because she's probably Jess' emergency contact and _has_ to know something by now. Call her. _Now_." Nick told him impatiently. Winston nodded and whipped out his phone, dialing Cece's number as quickly as he could.

Nick sat on his bed and watched the spots of blood on his wrist drip to the floor silently, the heart monitor flat lining at the loss of his pulse to keep it busy. Christ, he could be flat lining in here and not one single doctor or nurse had come to check on him – shows how great they were at their jobs...

In the back of his mind, Nick was aware of Winston talking now, having reached Cece at last, but the front of his mind was more pre-occupied. The accident was playing over and over in his mind on a loop. Their kiss, the drive, the bickering, Jess' sweet kisses on his skin as he tried to concentrate on the road in front of them, the stop sign, the deserted street that wasn't quite as deserted as it seemed, the impact that still shook his bones to the core as he thought about it…

How would he live with himself if she died?

"Nick," Winston's voice cut through his self-loathing. He looked up to meet Winston's eyes, hopeful that he had good news. He lowered his eyes, hesitant now that Nick's eyes were on him. He swallowed and looked back up. "Cece's here, just down the hall." He told him, knowing he would speed off to find her to find news before he could say anything else. He called Schmidt then as Nick left the room as quickly as he could, on a mission now.

He would not be prepared at all for the conversation he would have with Cece, but…

~!~!~!~!

Hours ticked by after Nick finally found Cece in the hallway. Jess was in surgery. She could be in there for the rest of the night, they had told her. She should go home, get some rest, come back in the morning.

Fat chance!

When Schmidt came in with a change of clothes for Nick, he slipped away to change and was back in the waiting room with all of them before any time had passed at all, ducking down in his seat when his bitch of a doctor walked by, frantically searching for him. He was fine now; he just needed to make sure Jess was going to be okay, and he couldn't do that if that bitch tried to knock him out again.

Cece fell asleep against Schmidt's shoulder at some point, and it was all Nick could do to keep his eyes open himself, but he would do it. They could come out at any moment with news of her condition and he didn't want to miss it; if he fell asleep now, he didn't know when he would wake up; he might miss it.

Winston left to get coffee from the cafeteria at some point, thrusting a cup into Nick's hand silently when he returned.

For hours, they sat in the waiting room, drinking coffee, avoiding doctors and nurses searching for Nick – really, though, it was their own fault they didn't notice him sitting there. They had his chart, knew what he looked like, knew he had a broken wrist. If they couldn't connect the dots, whose fault was that? – and waiting on news of Jess' condition. They all hoped, prayed, that she would be all right.

She was _Jess, _damnit. She was as bright as the fucking sun itself. _Of course_ she would be all right!

Right?

After what seemed like forever – Nick still didn't know what time it was – a doctor, a surgeon, approached Cece and took her aside to talk to her about Jess' condition – emergency contact privilege and all that.

Nick sat on edge, straining his ears to try to pick up a snippet of what was being said. The waiting room had been slowly filling up, however, and there was buzz of conversations going on all around them now, making it incredibly difficult to pick up on anything not going on immediately near them. His jaw was as tight as it could be before he hurt himself, bottom lip between his canines. What the hell –

Schmidt poked him in the side and nodded to Cece's crumbling face. She was _crying_. The doctor had a comforting hand on her shoulder, was trying to soothe her.

Oh God.

The room felt as though it had been sucked of all the oxygen, Nick's lungs were struggling to take in any sort of air. The world was spinning, crumbling, coming off its axis.

Something was wrong.

_Very_ wrong.

He glanced at Winston and Schmidt, they were both staring at Cece intently as the doctor finished saying something to her, gave her a look of sympathy and grief, and then walked off, his shoulders slumping in the most depressing sort of way. They had to know something was up, too.

The three men were at Cece's side the second the Doctor bounded away, all curious, wondering, scared. What –

"Cece. What's going on with Jess? Tell me…" Nick coaxed carefully, placing a hand on her shoulder the same way the doctor had. Cece shook her head and wiped at her eyes. As patiently as he could, Nick let her throw her arms around him and pull him in, sobbing into his fresh shirt for a few moments before he tried to get an answer out of her again.

"Cece." He said gently, pushing her away to meet his eyes. "_Cece_. Tell me what's wrong. Is Jess… Is she all right?" he asked dumbly, swallowing as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, smearing her makeup. He knew that whatever was going on, it wasn't good, but he had to _hope_. And until the second Cece told him otherwise, he was going to keep on believing that she would be okay. That she would walk away from this just like he was, just like the other bastard driver was.

False hope was better than facing reality just yet.

~!~!~!~!

"It's your turn to go see her," Schmidt touched Nick's shoulder gently as he walked out of Jess' room, his face wet and weary. When it was made clear that they needed, that they… should say goodbye, Nick had made the decision that he wanted to go in last. He wanted to make sure the others got to say what they needed to say because he really didn't know how long he would be in there – there was just so much he needed to say.

He had called Jess' parents while the others took their turns and they were on their way, each of them vowing to get there just as soon as they possibly could. But they wouldn't get there in time, that much Nick was sure of, so Cece had promised to tell her how much her parents loved her, how proud they were of her and everything she'd accomplished in her life.

Nick, Cece, and Winston were all sitting in the thin strip of hallway between Jess' room and another. Schmidt stood near Nick, waiting for the man to move and give Schmidt a place to sit. No one else had been called other than Jess' parents. No one could think of anyone else who needed to be at the hospital that morning with them.

Later, they would come up with a thousand more names, a thousand more numbers they should have called, but their brains were numb, their nerves frayed, their faces tear-stained. No one else mattered in the moment expect their own personal ball of dimming sunshine that was getting duller with every passing moment.

"Nick?" Cece asked quietly, a hand coming to rest on his.

"I'm going." He answered what they'd implied, stood up slowly, sadly walked into Jess' room and let the door click shut behind him. He looked around; let his sad eyes take in everything but Jess' broken form. Her room was almost entirely like his own had been expect with a few more machines present. Dull walls, terrible lighting, a much too shiny floor...

They had warned him it would be bad, that she was in critical condition, that the crash had damaged her organs, she had internal bleeding they couldn't stop, that she had a few broken bones, that she was bruised and battered and barely slipping between consciousness, that her heart was going so, so slowly, that it was a miracle that she was even able to talk at all at this point.

It was a miracle she wasn't dead just yet.

But she would be, they had promised grimly. Within hours, she would be dead. All they could do was let her loved ones say goodbye and make her as comfortable as possible.

That was all they could offer her.

"Jessica…" Nick whispered, approaching her frail form in the bed. He let his good hand reach out and stroke her bloodstained hair back out of her face.

Bruised, broken, bloody.

A person like Jess didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to die so young! And not like this. Not because some asshole punk had drank too much and had the gall to put his keys in his ignition. She had done nothing in her life to warrant death at the hands of someone else's mistakes…

"Nicholas…" Jess murmured back, eyes sliding open just so. His heart began to thud much too loudly, reminding him of what hers refused to do anymore. Her eyes, once so blue and deep and wondering, were dim now, the life slowly draining out of her. Nick wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his red hoodie; the one Jess had always loved so much. In his dark jeans and his hoodie, he could be mistaken for any random Joe on the street rather than a patient who was losing the love of his life...

Life could be funny like that.

"Hey, Jess. How are you feeling?" he asked, his shaky hand still stroking her hair.

"Oh, you know, I've been better. How about you? How are you feeling?" she asked, more worried about him at the moment than her own fading life.

"I'm fine, Jess." He lied through his teeth, trying to stop the tears from flowing so freely.

"You were in that car, too, Nick. How are you _really_ doing?" she demanded in too weak of a voice. Deciding to just let himself go, he gave up wiping the tears away and lifted his broken wrist over her face to show her.

"Not as bad as you. Just a broken wrist, some bruised ribs, and a few bumps and bruises." He explained, not mentioning the emotional turmoil he was going through at the moment. He was focused on _her_ right now, on saying a proper goodbye, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder what he was going to do without her. He had had a life before she came along, sure, he just… couldn't remember what a sad existence it had been. Now that he knew all that he could be with her in his life, how could he go back to a life dull and empty without her in it? How would he survive without her?

"My poor baby…" she whispered, reaching a shaky, thin, battered arm up to catch his broken wrist, stroking the cast gently before letting her hand fall back down, letting his hand come to rest on top of it carefully.

"_My_ poor baby." He echoed, nodding towards her. He walked closer, took a seat near her head and held her hand in his broken one as carefully as he could, pain shooting down his arm as he remembered he had been avoiding his doctors and nurses all night and hadn't had painkillers in quite a few hours. What was another hour or two, though? He could deal with the pain if it meant bringing some form of comfort to Jess in her… in her final moments.

"How bad is it?" she asked him ambiguously. Was she referring to _his_ pain... Or to _hers_?

"What did the doctors tell you?" he asked gently, deciding to go that route. He didn't want her to worry about him in her last moments and had firmly decided to focus on her. He didn't want to cause her any sort of concern.

"Enough… They told me about the accident, even though I remember it all anyway, about being in surgery for so long, about my injuries and how there's nothing else they can do… They told me I'm dying, Nick." She told him, her weak voice cracking on the last word. Nick nodded, more tears streaming down his cheeks as her words sank in.

She knew then.

That these were her last moments.

And she had still been so concerned with _his_ well-being. She was such a saint! A cupcake baking, sex loving, child teaching, amazing kisser of a saint. He had never really deserved her, had he? And now... now he was being punished for thinking that he had. Now _she_ was being punished because he was a selfish jackass.

"I'm sorry, Nick." She mumbled, her own eyes becoming moist, tears streaming down her own cheeks as she choked out that sentence. He wiped her cheeks dry, leaned over and kissed her softly to calm her like he knew she would do to him. He needed to be stronger than he actually was right now. He didn't need Jess to see him so broken like this when she was even more broken, so beyond repair.

"What are you sorry for?" he demanded softly, stroking her hair lovingly as he leaned over her.

"For dying. For leaving you. I know you need me, Nick, but…" she trailed off, not sure how to finish her sentence. Nick choked out a sob, a half-laugh half-scream abomination of a thing.

"It's not your fault, Jess. It's _mine_. I shouldn't have taken the long way home. I should have listened to you, should have taken the regular route, but… I just wanted more time with you. You don't need to point out the irony in that statement, Jess; believe me, I already know…" he told her.

"It's not your fault, Nick." She told him, shaking her head carefully. "You were just driving along. The guy who hit us is at fault, not you. You were driving, you stopped at that sign, you had the right of way. You didn't do anything wrong, Nick. Please don't blame yourself for this. _Please_." She begged softly, her wet eyes lighting up for a moment until he promised her exactly what she wanted. He couldn't blame himself for her…

He sat with her in near complete silence for a few minutes, her ever-slowing heart beating steadily. With every beep, he was afraid it would just… _stop_. And she would be _gone_. And he would never get to say what he wanted to say most of all.

"Jess?" he asked. Jess' eyes popped back open at the sound of his voice. She searched out his eyes, his hand, pulled him closer to her so he could say what he needed to say closer to her. In her final moments, she wanted to be _so close_ to him that it broke his fucking heart and the dam in his eyes nearly burst again. But he bit the inside of his cheek to keep the tears at bay. He needed to get this out before it as too late.

"Yes, Nick?"

"I… You remember before when I said we should call it?" he asked.

"Yeah." She nodded.

"And you remember how I said it wasn't like we were in love or anything?" he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Yes." She swallowed as well, her heart picking up ever so slightly. It gave him hope – false hope, of course. But at least, he decided, it was enough to give him the strength to finish that thought.

"I was _lying_, Jess. It _is_ like we're in love or something. I love you, Jessica." He told her in a whisper, his hand finding its typical spot on the side of her face. He stroked her delicate, too pale skin gently as she smiled at him, not hesitating as she replied.

"I love you, too, Nicholas." He laughed slightly, tears coming out despite his best efforts. She reached a hand up to pull him down, kissing him slowly, carefully. His scruff, usually so intoxicating and seductive, made her skin itch, the bruises planted along her skin wincing slightly at the contact. She kissed him for a moment longer, however, letting him pull away when he noticed he was getting her skin much too wet.

"God, Jess." He shook his head. "I love you." He repeated. She echoed his sentiment, her eyes slipping shut as she clutched his hand in a limp grip. He tightened his hold, squeezed her hand worriedly when she didn't tighten her grip as well. He knew it was coming. But… he wanted this moment to last forever. This one moment could be his forever. He didn't care. Just as long as she didn't die. Not now. Not after finally –

"Nick?" his heart raced in his chest at her tone. Defeated and sad, just as broken as he remembered she was.

"Yeah, Jess?"

"Could you… say it one more time?" He nodded, her eyes just a slit now. It was an effort for her to say just the one sentence, to keep her eyes open that much, to hold his hand like she was now.

"I love you, Jessica Day. I'll always love you." He promised, leaning down to kiss her. This time, however, she barely kissed back, having lost the strength to do much of anything at that point.

"Always?"

"Forever and always." He assured her, his throat tight.

"Good. I love you, too, Nicholas Miller. I'll always love you."

"Always?" he asked, eyes flicking to her heart monitor.

_Too slow_.

Any moment now was going to be her last one. And when it came, he would break down. He would sit in that chair and cry, maybe for minutes, maybe for hours. Nurses would have to drag him away from her body, they would discover he was the "missing" patient and escort him back to his room to drug him up some more. And he wouldn't resist anymore. He would let them pump him full of whatever numbing drugs they wanted to then. He would sleep as long as they wanted him to, he would let them make sure he didn't feel his broken wrist or bruised ribs. It was either that, or drown in the loss of the light that was Jessica Day.

He would let them drug him for a while, he decided. Just so he wouldn't feel it.

"Forever and always." She promised back, pulling him down for one final kiss with the last of her strength. Her hand fell back to rest at her side and Nick's found itself on her skin, her weak pulse beating underneath it. He forced himself to lock eyes with her until they slipped closed one final time.

A moment later, the only sound that filled the room was the sound of the heart monitor flat-lining as Jess' pulse stopped beneath his fingertips, her warmth escaping the room as he tried to savor it, tried to remember what her kisses tasted like, what it felt like when she had gotten too close to him, pulled him close for a hug, her soft cheek always brushing up against his scruff. He tried to remember that stupid songs she would sing, the ice cream she loved, the movies she watched, her favorite TV shows, the crafts she loved to do…

He tried to remember everything amazing about Jessica Day as he stared down at her lifeless body, a doctor and nurse rushing in to try to save her, pushing him away from her body so they could, needlessly, work on her, his fingers lingering on her skin for as long as he could manage.

The tears streaked down his cheeks as their friends entered the room and someone embraced him, holding him close and sobbing onto his shoulder. He couldn't process who was doing what or saying what, his mind was stuck on a different loop now, replaying everything wonderful and amazing that he loved about Jess and even the not-so wonderful and not quite as amazing things he loved about her as well.

The memories were all he had now.

And he would cherish them for the rest of his life, just as he would love her even though she wasn't there with him anymore.

He would always love her, just like he had promised her.

Forever and always.

**Fin.**

* * *

**So, yeah. Sorry about that, guys. I hope it wasn't too bad for you. **

**I won't lie to you, I did cry while I wrote this, and if you say you didn't cry by the end of this then you're a filthy liar. **

**After writing this, I think I need to go write some Ness fluff or something, because that broke my heart to write. I hate writing shit like this because it demands to be written and tears my heart out in the process. Yes, some Ness fluff is definitely in order after this. I'll work on that.**

**I would just like to apologize once again for any sort of damage I might have done to your heart and/or mental state because of this. Seriously, guys, if you read this all the way through, you deserve some sugar or something. Go and eat some ice cream or cookies or something and feel better. Also, if you could _not_ come after me with torches and pitchforks, that'd be just grand, kay? Thanks.**

_Always,  
Hisa-Ai._


End file.
